Robots
Transcript :(clock ticking) :(ticking continues) :(mechanical chirping) :(children shout and laugh) :Children: Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing... :Child: One Grease Cone, please. :Man: Here you go. :Child: Thanks. :(mechanical whirring) :(pigeons cooing) :Herb: Wa-hoo! I'm gonna be a dad! I just talked to my wife! My baby's gonna be delivered any minute! :Cop: Hey! Get out of the way! :Herb: Hey! Hey! I'm gonna be a dad! Congratulate me! Wa-hoo! :Robot 1: Huh? :Robot 2: Hmm? :Fire Hydrant: Good for you, Herb! :(sniffing) :Fire Hydrant: Don't even think about it. :(whines) :Herb: Wa-hoo! :Robot 3: Hey! :Herb: Whoa! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! :Robot 3: Oh! Sorry! Hey, how are you? :Herb: I'm gonna be a dad! :Robot 3: Congrats! :Herb: Whoo-hoo! :(whimpers) :Herb: Hey, Mr. Nuts, did you hear the news? :Mr. Nuts: Yeah! :Herb: Beautiful day, isn't it? :(thud) :Herb: I'm here! I'm here! I'm here. :Lydia: Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. You missed the delivery. :Herb: Oh... :Lydia: But it's okay. Making the baby's the fun part. :(sultry saxophone music plays) :Lydia: Honey, I think you've got the wrong, uh... :Herb: (chuckles) No. I don't need to see the directions. (offscreen) Push! Push! Push...! :(grunting) :(grunts) :(laughing) :(grunting) :Lydia: (gasps) Oh! :(baby crying) :Lydia: 12 hours of labor. Oh, but it was worth it. :Herb: Look at him. Look at him! Rodney Copperbottom. He's got your mom's eyes and my dad's nose. I knew we were smart to save thise parts. This Copperbottom will do great things for the word, I can feel it. :Lydia: Honey? :Herb: What? :Lydia: What's that extra piece? :Herb: Oh. Oh, no, they always put in an extra... (chuckles) We did want a boy, right? (clears throat) This won't hurt a bit, son. :(clang) :(bawling) :(camera shutter clicks) :(imitates monkey) :(crying) :Herb: (babbles baby talk) (chuckles) Got your nose. Got your nose. Got your... Whoa! :(crying) :(nervous chuckle) :(shutter clicks) :(crying) :(clicking) :(crying quietly) :(stops crying) :Baby: Dada! (babbles) (giggling) :(shutter clicks) :(Rodney panting) :Herb: Hi, son. :Youngest Rodney: Are those my big-boy parts? :Herb: They sure are. :Youngest Rodney: Wow! They're not shiny. :Herb: Well, they're not brand-new. They're p... pre-owned, so... :Lydia: They're hand-me-downs, from your cousin, Jeffrey. :Herb: And they're only for a year. :(torso clattering) :(panting) :(grunting) :(clamoring voices) :(marching band playing) :Bass Drum: Ow... Ow! Ow-ow! Aah! :Youngest Rodney: (offscreen) Hey, Dad! Who's that? :Herb: That, Rodney, is Bigweld, the greatest robot in the world. :Youngest Rodney: I thought you were the greatest robot in the world. :Herb: (chuckles) No, besides me. He's the head of Bigweld Industries. He invents things that make everyone's life better. :Youngest Rodney: Could I meet him? :Herb: Sure. Maybe someday. :Youngest Rodney: Dad? :Herb: Yeah? :Youngest Rodney: What do you do? :Herb: Me? Oh, I work in a big, fancy restaurant. I'm a dishwasher. :Announcer: And now, live from Robot City, it's the "Bigweld Show"! :Younger Rodney: Wa-hoo! Oh, yeah! Uh-huh! Come on, Dad, you're missing it! :Herb: All right, all right, Rodney, all right, I'm coming, I'm coming. I had to bring work home with me again, I'm sorry. Mr. Gunk has really been piling it on. :Announcer: And now, the host of our show, Bigweld! :Bigweld: Welcome! This week, I thought you might like to take a look around Bigweld Industries. This here is the front gate. Kind of cute, ain't it? :(upbeat music playing) :Bigweld: Good morning, Tim. :Tim: Good morning, Mr. Bigweld, sir! :Bigweld: Tim, who closed the front gate? :Tim: Well, I just thought since, uh... :Bigweld: Oh, we never shut the gate, Tim. Shutting this gate means shutting out frest ideas. You see, every day robots come from hither and yon, bringing us new ideas. :(sneezes) :Bigweld: And I listen to every single one of them. :(beeps) :Robot 4: Hmm? :(beeping) :Robot 5: Hmm? :Robot 4: Aah! :(soft gasp) :Bigweld: So remember, whether a bot is made of new parts, old parts or spare parts, you can shine no matter what you're made of. :Younger Rodney: He's talking to me, Dad. :Herb: He sure is, son, he sure is. :Bigweld: (offscreen) Okay, folks, let's get to inventin'! You, know, I love to tinker, but all the tinkering in the world isn't useful unless it starts with a good idea. :(screams) :Bigweld: So look aorund for a need, and start coming up with ideas to fill that need. One idea will lead to another, and before you know it, you've done it! See a need, fill a need. :Young Rodney: That's it, Dad. I have to look for... :(snoring) :Young Rodney: ...a need. :(mechanical whirring) :Young Rodney: Easy, now. (chuckles) :(squeaky chuckle) :(squeaky grunting) :(gasping) :(grunting) :(squeaky laughing) :Young Rodney: Ow! Ow! :Herb: Hey there, sport! :(muffled squeak) :Young Rodney: Oh. Hi. :Herb: These are your 12-year-old parts. They're... :Young Rodney: Hand-me-downs. I-I know, Dad. :(muffled squeak) :Young Rodney: I don't mind. :Herb: They are from your cousin, Vermonica. :Lydia: (sing-song) You know how popular she is. :(groans) :(muffled squeaks) :(Rodney grunts) :(squeaky giggling) :("Pomp and Circumstance" playing over cheers) :(shutter clicks) :(rock music playing) :(robots talking) :Robot 6: Thanks. :(whirring, clattering) :(whirring dies down) :(crunching) :(duct tape unrolling) :Herb: (chuckles) Oh. Oh, hey. Hey. Soon as you reach the age where your warranty expires, you start falling apart. Pretty soon there's gonna be more duct tape than me. :Rodney: Can I try it now, Dad? :Herb: Oh. Oh, Rodney, uh... Have you worked all the kinks out of it yet? :Rodney: Come on, this is gonna make your job easy. I invented it for you. :Herb: Okay. Let's try it. :Rodney: Great! Okay, this is it. :(squeaky fanfare) :Rodney: Wonderbot, go to work! (squeaky exclamation) :(Ricky Fante: Shine) :Robot 7: Whoa! Look out! :(funky music plays) :(high-pitched grunt) :Ricky Fante: When the world counts you out. When you're lost, and you doubt, that you're good enough. :Wonderbot: Wa-hoo! :Robot 7: Yeah! Yeah! :Ricky Fante: When you're out on your own and you're feeling all alone, just keep hanging on. :(Wonderbot squeaking) :Ricky Fante: Mm-hmm! 'Cause it don't matter what you're made of! :Robot 8: Hey! :Ricky Fante: Believe in yourself and keep your head up, yeah! Don't you know that you can shine, shine! Shine, it's groovy! You will shine, shine, shine! Shine! And together we will shine! Oh, shine! Shine, ooh! Ooh! :(chomps, burps) :Ricky Fante: Mmm, ooh, ooh... :Mr. Gunk: Copperbottom! :(Wonderbot shrieks) :Rodney: Mr. Gunk! :Gunk: What is that? :Herb: Oh, that... My son made it. :Gunk: What's it doing? :Rodney: Mr. Gunk, please! Y-You're making it nervous. :Gunk: It's wrecking my kitchen! I'll stop it. :Rodney: No! :(Gunk grunting) :Gunk: (coughs) Your son, huh? :Rodney: It wasn't his fault. He had nothing to do with... :Herb: Yes, sir, he's a brilliant boy, an inventor. :(squeaks) :Gunk: You, clean up this mess. And you, get out! Inventor! You're the hand-me-down son of a dishwasher, and that's all you'll ever be! Somebody scrape this crud off of me. And serve it to the customers. :Conductor: Round-trio or one-way? :Rodney: One-way. :Lydia: (relieved sigh) There you are! I told you I'd find him. It's a mother's instinct. :Herb: Instinct? He left us a note. "I'm leaving. I'll be at the train station." :Lydia: Never mind. Pick up that suitcase. You're coming home right now. :Rodney: No, Mom. I have to do this. I'm going to Robot City tonight. I'm gonna get a job, and I'm gonna help pay back Mr. Gunk. :Lydia: Talk to him. :Herb: Uh... R... :Lydia: Robot City?! You're just a kid! :Rodney: I'm never gonna be someone here. I want to be an inventor. I want to meet Bigweld. I want to be somebody. :Lydia: You are somebody. Somebody who's not getting on that train. :Rodney: Yes, I am. :Lydia: Talk to him. :Herb: One ticket for Robot City. :Lydia: Where are you going? :Herb: Not me. Him. :Lydia: (offscreen) But... :Herb: Rodney, did you know that I was your age, I wanted to be a musician? I played pretty well, too, but, but my dad was worried that I wouldn't be able to make a living, so I got refitted to be a dishwasher. Now, I'm not complaining, but I've always said to myself, if I could do it over again, I would follow my dream. You've got greatness in you, Rodney. Never doubt it. You go to Robot City. You go meet Bigweld, and you show him your big ideas. And, Rodney, never, never give up. :(Mrs. Copperbottom crying) :Conductor: (sobbing) All aboard! :Rodney: (clearing throat) Mom... :(train slowly chugging) :Rodney: I won't let you down, Dad. I'll make you proud. :Herb: I know you will. :(clamoring voices) :Rodney: Wow! 'Scuse me, I wonder if you... Yeah. I wonder if you could... :Robot 9: Gave at the office! :Rodney: Oh. Could you direct me to Bigwled Indus... What? :Fender: Perfect! That'll be 50 bucks. :Rodney: 50 bucks?! For what? :Fender: A beutiful picture of your first moment in Robot City. There, I've captured your second moment. That's another $50. Are you keeping track? :(cash register ring) :Fender: Come on, work with me, work with me. More pout, less pose. That's great, inside of you is a fashion model just waiting to throw up. Give me those eyes, big eyes, big eyes. Give me big, anime eyes. Yeah, loving it, loving it, loving it! :Rodney: I don't want any pictures! :Fender: You don't? :Rodney: No! :Fender: Well, that's all right, there's no film in the camera. Would you like to buy a map to the stars' homes? Where'd he go? :(jazzy music plays) :(barking) :(coins rattling) :Robot 10: Psst, buddy, want to buy a watch? :All: (whispering) Don't buy us. We're fakes. :Robot 11: Next. :(alarm blaring) :(gasps) :Robot 12: Hmm. (whimpers) :Rodney: Excuse me, h-how do I get to Bigweld Industries? Oh, great... Oh. :(hip-hop playing) :(hip-hop continues) :Rodney: Uh, n-n-never mind. :(tinny, garbled speaking over P.A.) :Rodney: Hi. Excuse me. How do I get to Bigweld Industries? :(tinny, garbled speaking) :Rodney: What? :(garbled speaking) :Rodney: (chuckles) Oh. Hey. Yeah. Thanks. :Voice: (garbled) You're welcome, sir. :P.A.: Crosstown Express to Foundry District, with stops at Bigweld Industries and Battery Park only. :Rodney: Ah. :(bell dings) :P.A.: Please tighten all screws, nuts, bolts and detachable appendages. Riders wity high oil pressure are advised to take the local. :Rodney: Oh! (sighs) :P.A.: Thank you, and have a nice day. :Fender: (mumbles, snores) (snoring) No, no, not that one... (snores) (goofy laugh) (drowsy sigh) Whazzit...? Oh. Say, are you following me? :Rodney: No. :Fender: First time on the Crosstown Express? :Rodney: Well, actually, I... :Fender: Oh, boy! Well, good luck in the big city. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. And if you can't make it here, welcome to the club. :Rodney: Wow! :Fender: Oh, no. :Rodney: What? What is itm :Fender: We'rd going off the track! We're going to crash! :Rodney: What?! :Fender: I don't want to die! :Both: Whoa! (screaming) :(grunts) :Fender: (cracking) (laughs) I was just kidding. :Rodney: Whoo! :Fender: Just put your head between your legs. :Rodney: Huh? Whoa! :(Rodney screaming) :Fender: Yeah! :(hollow whooshing) :Fender: Whoops! There goes my stop. :(hollow clanging) :(whirring) :Fender: Yo! I'll tell you, the things that fall off me... It's embarrasing. :(whooshing) :(shouting) :(dinging) :(retching) :Fender: Sorry. You know what? It usee to be a lot worse. They had this giant hammer... :(gasps) :Fender: Oh, they brought it back. :(screams) :(speaking gibberish) :(soft whooshing) :(clinks softly) :(grunting) :Fender: Just stick with me, kid. I know this town like the back of my hand. Hey, that's new. (screaming) (laughing) :(footsteps clinking) :Rodney: Wow! :Tim: (offscreen) Yoo-hoo? Excuse me? Can I help you? :Rodney: Sorry, I-I... Hey, you're Tim from the TV show! :Tim: That's me. :Rodney: Well, hey, Time, who closed the gate? It's never supposed to be... :Tim: Yeab, okay, what do you want? :Rodney: Hmm? Oh. I'd like to see Mr. Bigweld. I'm an inventor. :(dramatic shout) :Tim: Oh! Why didn't you say so? Stand back. :(gate rumbling) :(water splashing) :(choir singing) :Rodney: Thanks! :(thud) :Rodney: What?! :Tim: (laughing) I gotcha! You see, 'cause you were all excited, and then boom! (laughing) All right, I had my laugh. Go on in. :(gate rumbles) :(choir sings) :Rodney: Whoa, hey! :(laughing) :(clanging) :Tim: Now, that's funny! The second time. You really think I'm going to let you in, (laughing) but I'm not. Sorry, kid. Nobody gets in. Company rules. :Rodney: Company ru...? Well, then, how do they hire new inventors? :Tim: They don't. Those days are over. My advice: mm, come back two years ago. Then the job is yours. (laughing) (laugh echoing) (laughing turns into coughing) :Bigweld: (offscreen) So, remember, whether a bot is made of new parts, old parts or spare parts, you can shine no matter what you're made of. :Ratchet: My goodness, what a remarkable legacy. Concern for the common robot. You don't come across old-fashioned values like that anymore, friends, and for good reason. There's no money in it! :(murmuring gasps) :Ratchet: Hello?! Memo to Bigweld: we're not a charity! That's why old Fatface no longer sits in the big chair. He's a relic! So I don't want to hear another, "Where's Bigweld?" (imitating baby whining) :Bigmouth Executive 1: We'll see him next month at the Bigweld Ball! He always goes to that. :(clicks) :(screams) :Ratchet: Now, let's get down to the business of sucking every loose penny out of Mr. and Mrs. Average Knucklehead. What's our big-ticket item? :("Eye of the Tiger" playing) :Ratchet: Upgrades, people, upgrades. That's how we make the dough. Now, if we're telling robots that no matter what they're made of, they're "fine", how can we expect them to feel crummy enough about themselves to buy our upgrades and make themselves look better? Therefore, I've come up with a new slogan: "Why be you, when you can be new?" :(groaning) :Ratchet: I got to tell ya, I think it's brilliant, but-but honestly, I'd like to hear what you employees think about this. :(cheering) :Bigmouth Executive 2: Out of the ballpark, Ratchet. :(buzzing and squeaking) :Rodney: Just don't look down. :(squeaks) :(squeals) :Rodney: Whoa! :(Rodney shouting) :(Wonderbot squealing) :Rodney: Whoa! Hey! :(chirps) :Rodney: Get off! Ow! Get off! Shoo! Go on! Get off! G... Ow! (screams) Get off me! (screams) :Ratchet: Cappy, you, uh, you haven't said a word. :Cappy: It gave ne chills. :Ratchet: Thank you, thank you. :Cappy: But... :Ratchet: "But"? :(staff gasps) :Cappy: I'm just wondering, why would robots buy new upgrades if parts are so much cheaper? :Ratchet: Oh, right. Well, that's easy, because, as of today, we are no longer making spare parts! :(staff gasps) :Ratchet: Do you know what I call robots who can't afford upgrades? Scrap metal. You see them on the streets, misshappen and rust-covered. They turn your insides out. You want to return home and scrub yourself. Now, Cappy, I want your department to push our new slogan. In fact, I'm moving you into the office right next to mine. We'll be working very, very closely together on this one. Won't that be fun? :Cappy: Oodles. :(grunts) :(staff gasping) :Cappy: Uh, uh... :(buzzing) :(yelling) :Rodney: Oh, so sorry. I-I... :Ratchet: What the...?! :Rodney: Sir, uh, uh... :(squeaks) :Rodney: I am a young inventor, and, and it has been my dream to come to Robot City and, and to present my ideas to Mr. Bigweld, who doesn't seem to be here. :Ratchet: (offscreen) Gee, no, no, but while he's away, he left me in charge. :Rodney: Oh, well, then, let me show you what this can do. :(growls) :Ratchet: I have a better idea. Why don't you let me show you what it can do? It can do this! :(staff gasping) :(squealing) :(magnetic humming) :(groaning) :(crackling) :(whirring) :Rodney: Ow! (shouts) (grunts) :Tim: So, how'd it go? :(grunting) :(magnetic humming) :Rodney: What the heck-heck is going on around here? Some, some highly-polished jerk is sitting in, in Bigweld's chair. :Tim: Mm, and you're sitting on the sidewalk, magnetized. (laughing) :Rodney: Listen, I'll be back, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this. :Tim: Wow, when you pick a lost cause, you really commit. Where do they make dreamers like you? Get lost, freak! (laughing) :(joints whooshing) :Rodney: Huh? :(pinging) :(groans) :(pinging) :(grunting) :(magnetic whooshing) :(grunts) :(yells) :(panicked yell) :(metallic clanking) :Rodney: Oh! Ooh! (grunting) Whoa. Whoa. Whoa... (yells) (grunts) (yells) (grunts, yells) Aah... :Robot 13: Ha, ha! Ooh. Uh. Whoo! (gasps) Ooh! :(yells) :Choir: Hallelujah! :(yelling) :(yelling fades) :(yelling continues) :(grunts) :(yelling) :(grunts) :(metallic clattering) :(Rodney grunting) :(metallic thudding) :(deep grunts) :(chugging gently) :(chugging continues) :(metallic creaking) :(distant rhythmic chanting) :(Tom Waits: Underground) :(chanting grows louder) :Tom Waits: (gravely voice) Rattle big black bones in the danger zone. There's a rumblin' groan down below. There's a big, dark town it's a place I've found. There's a world going on underground... :(cackling) :(rhythmic chanting) :Madame Gasket: All right, break time. :Workers: Huh? :Madame Gasket: All right, break time's over. Chop, chop. :(workers groaning) :(cackling) :Madame Gasket: (gasps) Look who's here. :Ratchet: Hi, Mom. :Madame Gasket: Hi, sweetie. How's my boy? :Ratchet: Great! I did just what you told me. No more spare parts. In a couple of weeks, all those broken-down losers out there are going to be nothing but scrap metal. You will be up to your bloomers in broken, outmode junk. :Madame Gasket: Such a good boy. And after you finish off Bigweld, there will be nobody out there to fix them. :Ratchet: Exactly! You, you want to swing that one by me again? :Madame Gasket: Idiot! Those outmodes look up to him. Suppose he decides to come back. :Ratchet: Aw, come on, Mom. He's not going to be any trouble where he is. :Madame Gasket: What are you afraid of? Grow some bolts. Or do you want to end up like your father? :Mr. Gasket: Hey, son, good to see you. :Madame Gasket: Think what it would mean. Not Bigweld Industries, Ratchet Industries. :Ratchet: Keep talking. :Madame Gasket: Ratchet City! :Ratchet: Yes, everything shiny. :Madame Gasket: No more Bigweld... :(Ratchet laughing manically) :Madame Gasket: ...no more outmode! :Ratchet: Let's do it! :Madame Gasket: That's my boy. :Tom Waits: All the trucks unload, beyond the gopher holes... :(both laughing) :(laughing) :Madame Gasket: Are you hungry? Can I get you something? You look at him. :Ratchet: No, no, no, Mom. I gotta go. Bye. Oh, bye, Pop. :Mr. Gasket: So long, son. Good luck with your dastardly plans. :Tom Waits: There's a world going on underground. :Rodney: (high-pitched, Spanish accent) I'm a little teapot, short and stout, here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up, hear me shout. :Fender: (deep voice) Just tip me over and pour me out. (laughing) :Rodney: Hey! :(mutters, screwdriver clatters on floor) :Fender: Hi, there. :(groaning) :Fender: Listen, if I seem to be getting smaller, it's because I'm leaving. :Rodney: Ow! :Fender: Foot, don't fail me now. :Rodney: Stop! Hey, you got my foot! :(rattling) :(dramatic music plays) :(rattling) :(whimsical music plays) :Fender: Oh! Ow! (spits) Oh, great. Happy now? :Rodney: Not until you give me back my foot, you mugger. :Fender: I am not a mugger. I happen to be... (grunts) ...a scrounger. I didn't know you were at the end of that foot. :Rodney: Oh, here. Let me help you with that. :Fender: No, no, no, I'll do it myself. I have my pride, you know. (whistles) Over here. Oh, no, no, no, not that clo... (grunts) Hold on, hold on. Ow! No, no, no! Ow! Ow! (grunts) :Crank: Oh, what's the use? There's nothing left. :Lug: Hey, Diesel, I found you a voice box. :(speaking Spanish excitedly) :(crowd cheering) :Voice Box: Goal! Goal! Goal! Goal...! :(voice box clatters) :Lug: Uh, here's another one. :(high-pitched barking) :Crank: That's no good. Give me that. :(growling) :Lug: Oh, I can never find parts in my size. :(Fender screaming) :(barking) :Lug: (gasps) What is it, boy? :(barking) :(chuckles) :Lug: Hey, Fender, have you lost weight? :Crank: Lost weight? (laughs) Look at, will you look at... He's a head in a basket. We're doomed. I knew it. We're doomed. :Fender: Yeah, will you shut up, you neurotic nut? Why, I'd-I'e smack you if I had a hand. :(metallic clanking) :Fender: Wow, speak of the devil, here I come. :(loud thud) :Fender: Ow! Daddy! :Piper: Whoa, check this out. Who would throw away such a cute little doodad? :(squeaks) :Piper: Aw, don't be scared. :Rodney: (offscreen) Hey, that's mine. :Fender: That's him. That's the guy. I would know that face, I know that face, and I know that foot. Psst! He's over there, moron. That's the perpetrator. He knocked my head off. You want another piece of me? :Piper: All right, buster, if you think you can mess with my big brother, you're... you're kind of cute. :Crank: Piper, would you behave yourself? :(grunting) :Crank: Now, come on, let's get Fender fixed again. :Piper: Here's your thingamabob. By the way, the name's Piper. Rhymes with "viper." (hisses) See you around. (yelps) (clears throat) :Fender: We've told you a hundred times... (with Spanish accent) "Don't talk to strange men." (normal voice) Thank you, Manuel. :Piper: I talk to you. Who's stranger than that? :(Steriogram: Walkie Talkie Man) :Jack Hammer: I got good news, and I got bad news. :Fender: What's the bad news? :Jack Hammer: I checked the stock book. As of today, they're no longer making parts for your model. You have been officially outmoded. :Fender: Outmoded? Well, that's fine. What's the good news?! :Jack Hammer: Well, when we had your parts, they were on sale. (laughing) :(laughing, then crying) :Fender: (mournfully) How could this happen to me? I'm pratically a kid. :Jack Hammer: Geez, look... :Fender: This can't be happening. :Jack Hammer: ...pull yourself together. All you need is an upgrade. :All: Whoa! :Lug: Mm, that new upgrade smell. :Jack Hammer: Just came in, fully loaded. Look. It's got cup holders, standard. :Lug: Does it come in plus sizes? :Jack Hammer: Sure. Take a look at the new Bigweld spring collection. :(oohing and aahing) :Fender: I can't afford that fancy stuff. All I need is one stinking neck joint. Oh, why did this happen to me?! :(bell tings) :Fender: (offscreen) Oh, oh, ah, ah. Ah. I'm hurting me. Idiot. :Jack Hammer: Sorry, pal, it's either upgrade or the Chop Shop for you. :Fender: The Chop Shop? (wailing) I'm fine, I'm fine. Look, no hands. Whoops. Hey, hey, hup-hup-hup, ho, up and, uh, ta-da. I'm back. Miss me? :Piper: No one's going to the Chop Shop. :Crank: That's right. What do you think we can get for him? Now that I've been thinking about it, but I... :Piper: Will you stop?! Listen, shiny pants, you get back there and find a part for my brother. We are not junk, we are not scrap, and we will not be treated this way. :(air whistling) :Jack Hammer: I'm sorry. I don't have the parts? :Rodney: Well, do you have two washers, an S-spring and some fast weld? I can fix you, easy. :Voice Box: (deep voice) The Force is strong with this one. (deep, muffled breath) :(Houston, Chingy, Nate Dogg, and I-20: I Like That) :(loud hip-hop music playing) :(indistinct chatter) :Rodney: When was the last time you got oiled? :Fender: Oh, I can't really answer that with my kid sister right here. :Piper: Can it, Fender. :Rodney: Hold still. Th-This might tickle. :Fender: We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Fender. It used to be Bumper, but had to change it when we came into the country. :Rodney: Copperbottom. Rodney Copperbottom. :Fender: (snooty eccent) Riddle me this, why did I meet you among the garbage? :Rodney: Well, today, I tried to get in to see Bigweld. :(all chuckling) :Piper: Well, if you find him, tell him we really need him to come back. He cared about bots like us. :Crank: Well, what I heard is that they done him in, and they left the rest of us to fall apart. :Rodney: Well, that ought to do it. :Fender: Look at that. And he fixed my ne-e-e-e-e-ck. (gasps) Sweeper! :(all gasping) :Rodney: Sweeper? :Fender: (offscreen) Make yourselves scarce. :(chugging) :Rodney: What's the big deal? :Piper: Well, if you're an outmode, like Fender... :Fender: Hey. :Crank: They sweep you up and take you to the Chop Shop. :Piper: Where they melt you down and turn you into something else. :Rodney: You mean...? :(boings) :Piper: (whispers) Yep. :Fender: (mutters) Sweepers. Well! Here's one outmode you're not going to get! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. Nah-nah-nah-nah... :(clatters) :Fender: Whoops. :(beeping) :(gasps) :(beeping) :Piper: Fender, run! :(gasps) :(screaming) :(beeping) :(all laughing) :Piper: (offscreen, laughs) Oh, that was close. :Fender: (offscreen) When in Robot City, guests of the Rusties, that's us, stay at Aunt Fanny's boarding house, where our motto is, "Beats rustin' outside." (chuckles) Let me just let her know you're here. Aunt Fanny! We brought someone. :Aunt Fanny: (offscreen) I'm in the kitchen. :Rodney: Are you sure your aunt won't mind? :Fender: Relax. She's not my aunt. She just takes in bots who are, um, broke. (laughs) Bless her little heart. :Rodney: Well, then, why is she called Aunt Fanny? :Fender: (offscreen) Couldn't call her Aunt Booty. :Rodney: Whoa! :(clattering) :Aunt Fanny: Oops! Oh. Oh, scrap! :Piper: She's a little artsy-fartsy. :Aunt Fanny: (offscreen) Oh... :Piper: The artsy's okay, but once she gets fartsy... :Aunt Fanny: (offscreen) Oh! Look at... :(clattering) :Aunt Fanny: Oh, right on my shoes. I'm so clumsy. I... Well, hello there! What's your name? :Rodney: I'm Rodney Bigbottom. No! I'm no... I'm Rodney Copperbottom. Copperbottom. :Aunt Fanny: That's a wonderful name! Bigbottom. :(metallic roaring) :(grunts) :Aunt Fanny: Well, I just... :(groans) :Aunt Fanny: What happened to your friend? :Fender: He's been rear-ended. :Rodney: Oh! :Aunt Fanny: Oh! There you are! :(Aunt Fanny giggles) :Fender: (Souther accent) Aunt Fanny, he needs a place to stay. :Aunt Fanny: Well, just make yourself at home. :Rodney: Thank you. That's very kind of you. :Aunt Fanny: My pleasure. See a need, fill a need. :Rodney: Hey, just like Bigweld. :Aunt Fanny: Oh, Bigweld. That's a lot of robot. :(grunts) :(clattering) :Fender: Come on. You can bunk with me. We'll ignore the gossip. :(mechanical dinging) :(pop music playing) :(Stacie Orrico: More to Life) :Fender: (offscreen) You missed a spot. :Piper: (shrieks) Fender, get out of my room! :Fender: I'm not in your room. I am now. No, I'm not. I am, not, am, not... :Piper: Get out of my room! :(whirring) :(mechanical dinging) :(trickling) :Crank: Oh, man, this is my third oil change today. Something's wrong with me. :Fender: Oop. Sorry. :(dinging, gears clanking) :Fender: (offscreen) Here we are. Home sweet home. What's mine is yours. Oh, dear. :Rodney: I'll get them. :Fender: Oh, look. Look at that. Oh, now they're arm wrestling. :(speaking high-pitched gibberish) :(speaking gibberish in deep voice) :Fender: Could you separate them? Hurry! :(arms groaning) :Fender: My backside itches. :(mechanical creaking) :(quiet snoring) :(squeaking) :(flatulence) :Fender: I know that sounds bad, but I'm just doing musical arm farts. (rhythmic squeaking) You know how to do those? They're mard to do because we're made of metal, but that's where the skill comes in. I'm real close. Listen. (muffled splutter) No, wait. (high-pitched squeak) No, wait, wait. (airy explusion) Tell me that didn't sound like a... like an old man. (triling flatulence) :Rodney: (quiet laughter) You know, I'm a little tired. Maybe tomorrow. :Fender: Oh. Kind of a rough day, huh? :Rodney: Kinda. My dad's probably sitting by the phone waiting for his brilliant son to call and tell him what a big success my first day was. I know, it's not your problem. If you burden your friends, soon you won't have any. :Rodney: What are you, a fortune cookie? That's what friends... (laughs) You consider me your friend? :Rodney: Sure. What else would I consider you? :Fender: I don't know. An embarrasment, a way to rebel against your parents, a desperate cry for help. The list is endless. :Rodney: Let's just stick with friend. :Fender: You know, Rodney, even though you had a discouraging day, remember, there's another one coming tomorrow. You know, my last roommate jumped out that window. :Rodney: Hey, Fender. :Fender: Hmm? :(passing wind sound) :Fender: Yeah, baby, let it rip. :(laughs) :(squeaking, high-pitched flatulence) Category:20th Century Fox scripts